Blame It On The Mistletoe
by krisnreine
Summary: Cobert Holiday Fanfic Exchange! Christmas at Duneagle has made Robert a very cranky boy.
1. Chapter 1

Cobert Holiday Fanfic Exchange! This is a multi-chapter fic, so consider it like a cobert advent story or something. Bless everyone who participates for helping to pass the time until the christmas special. This story plays fast and loose with the concept of Duneagle. It pretends that they Crawleys end up going there for Christmas, too. Possible season 3 spoilers ahoy - I can't remember what the hell I've written anymore so. You've been warned.

* * *

_Duneagle. December 24, 1921_

Cora Crawley didn't realize she was standing under the mistletoe until she felt hands at her waist. She turned, a bright smile on her lips. His mouth pressed to insistently and she didn't even have a second to resist before his tongue was jabbing lightly at her lips, demanding entrance. His big palm was warm at the nape of her neck, holding her close, pressing her into him as though he would like to absorb her into himself.

Her brain was fogged with drink and cheer and she didn't hear the rumble of voices in exclamation. She only felt the man pressed to her.

And she was repulsed.

Palms on his chest she tried to push him away, tried to free herself from his grasp, but he was too strong, too hungry for her touch.

Then just as quickly as the onslaught began, it stopped. The man holding her was wrenched away from her, and now sounds rushed at her ears. There was shouting, the sounds of angry voices carrying over the music. And there was Robert, his face violently red. Violet stood to the side, her expression twisted in disgust. Cora tried to steady herself.

"I'll thank you to keep your hands off my wife!" Robert shouted and Cora pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, not even bothering to hide the gesture as she wiped.

"No need to be angry, Robert." Ian Nesbet grinned, a horrible twisting smile that brought even more vivid color to Robert's face. "I was just testing the waters. Wanted to see if Cora was still content with her marriage of convenience after all these years."

Ian never saw Robert's fist coming. It was only a heartbeat before the Marquis of Lothian was flat on his back, knocked cold.

* * *

_December 23, 1921_

They arrived in the county at midday, but the clouds were low and the wind was blowing in from the west, making their arrival a dismal affair. It was as though even Scotland was irritated with the change of plans, and wanted nothing more than for the Crawley family to spend Christmas in their own country, in their own home. Robert spent the last leg of the drive in sullen silence, resisting Cora's attempts to lighten his mood.

"They will expect us to sleep separately." Robert groused at long last, when Cora scooted closer to him and laid a hand on his thigh. "We won't be able to exchange our gifts in privacy, as we've done every year."

Cora sighed beside him, and rested her head on his shoulder. The hand resting on his thigh sought his hand and she threaded their fingers together.

"So what if they expect it?" They had this conversation every visit to the castle, and they worked it out just fine each time. "It's never stopped you before."

And it was true; it hadn't stopped him before. It was simply that he wanted to _sulk_, hated the fact that he wasn't home for the holiday, and resented Cora's ability to adapt to yet another change so easily. "We're older now."

Irritation tinged Cora's huff as she reached up a gloved hand and turned Robert's face towards her. He resisted momentarily, still caught up in his piteous display, but all that melted when Cora crashed her lips to his. Her tongue and teeth were demanding and she tilted her head just so and pushed in closer to him. The kiss was fierce and hot, and oh GOD, she had learned so much since they were first married. When she finally pulled away, her eyes shone mischievously. "You'll have to stop pouting or Santa won't bring you a gift."

His mood altered somewhat, he offered her a silly smile. He allowed his fingers to trek across her waist and slip beneath the folds of her travelling coat. It was a very long drive, after all. "Is it more of that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

* * *

The arrival at Duneagle went just about as Robert had expected. Cora, with her boundless feminine wiles and learned knack for managing him, was able to reduce Robert's foul mood to a memory by the time the motorcade reached the long driveway. He was pleased with himself as he watched her straighten her clothing and check her make-up in a small compact she carried in her little bag. She caught his self-satisfied expression out of the corner of her eye and told him he should probably wipe the lipstick off his throat before his children saw.

"They know how babies are made." Robert replied smartly, repeating something Cora had said to him hundreds of times in the last decade. She could only smirk in response; big words for a man who turned three shades of crimson if his daughters even hinted at sex.

With the family unloaded and the servants unpacking their luggage, Cora moved to greet his cousin Susan, Shrimpie, and the very sullen Rose.

"You're wearing lipstick, Robert." Violet commented as she passed him, her expression knowing.

"Really, Papa," Mary stood at his side, cradling her belly gingerly. Indeed she knew how babies were made, having successfully conceived what would be Robert's second grandchild. "You and Mama are far too old for that."

"For what?" Edith breezed up, in remarkably high spirits.

"Never mind." Robert shut down the conversation before it went any further, holding out his hand to an approaching Shrimpie. The families exchanged pleasantries - false and stilted as they were - before they moved into the Castle.

"We've arranged your regular rooms." Susan was saying, motioning to the footmen to show the way. Robert watched as Cora opened her mouth to speak and he waved her silent. There was no need to announce his wishes to everyone in the house.

"Cora, you'll have the pink room, I know how much you love it. Cousin Violet, I've put you in the Country Room, that way you'll be near to your daughter-in-law. Robert, the blue room is on the other side of cousin Violet's room. Mary and Matthew you'll..."

Susan's voice faded off as she led the rest of the group towards the stairs. Robert grabbed Cora's elbow and steered her after everyone else. His grip was tight and his irritation was back. "She put my mother between us. She did it on purpose."

Cora shrugged before leaning close and lowering her voice. "I don't think they've shared a room for a very, very long time."

"So she punishes me?"

Cora simply laughed and sped up to weave her arms with Mary's and peck her daughter's cheek.

Robert's scowl was firmly back in place.

* * *

My prompt: Cora is caught under the mistletoe...by someone who isn't Robert. Basically, Jealous!Robert. You're welcome. ;) Big ups and hugs to my homegirl, GranthamGal for organizing this porn, I mean fic fest.


	2. Chapter 2

Robert didn't believe he would be able to fall asleep, tucked away in a foreign bedroom, without the warm presence of his wife curled against his side. Each time he had opened his door to sneak to Cora's room, someone was in the hall. His mother, Matthew, Mary. A maid gave him an odd look as he ducked back behind the door and finally, his mother popped her head out of her room.

"Go to sleep, Robert, whichever bed you choose." With a morose expression he once again retreated into his own room and sighed sadly. It was as though he was punishing himself for unknown ills, stewing in his bad temper.

Mulling his own actions he must have dozed, because he was startled awake by warm hands sliding under his pajama shirt. The full press of his Cora's body to his back was a welcome feeling, even as her nails scraped up over his torso, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

Her breath was warm against the back of his neck and when she spoke, he couldn't control a frisson of anticipation.

"If Muhammad is too stubborn," She pressed a kiss just behind his ear and her hands slipped lower over his abdomen, nails still drawing lightly over his skin. "The mountain will just come to him."

She captured his earlobe in her teeth and he tried to wriggle around to face her, but the tiny bed and his wife's arousingly strong grip kept him in place.

"Cora, we shouldn't." He heard himself saying, and wanted to slap himself. His warm, willing and daring wife was doing delicious things to him and he was still concerned about the look of things?

"Have you learned nothing from me?" She asked, fingers slipping even lower beneath the waistband of his bottoms.

"Have gun will travel?" He asked nonsensically when her palm wrapped around him.

"Oh, is that what this is?" She gave him a lazy stroke and stifled a laugh when his back arched and he muttered a very ungentlemanly curse. She released her grip on him, withdrawing to put a few inches of space between them. Robert couldn't help but groan at the loss of contact and he rolled towards her warmth.

She sat beside him, her eyes nearly black in the shadowy light of his room. Her lips, a pale coral, were twisted in a soft smile. Her hair draped over her shoulder and he longed to run his fingers through it but was sidetracked by her hands, nimbly popping the top pearl buttons of her nightgown. After thirty years he and his wife had seen each other in a wide variety of stages of undress but it still shook him to the core to watch her disrobe. The diaphanous material slipped off her shoulders and he couldn't stop himself from reaching forward and nimbly tugging at the gaping material. She wriggled slightly and the material slipped to pool at her waist. Robert's wide-eyed appreciation made her giggle and she leaned forward to cup his face, running her thumb over his bottom lip. The touch of his tongue to her skin was enough to break the spell of the slow seduction. With amazing dexterity,, Cora pressed a palm to Robert's chest, pushed him back against the headboard and moved to straddle his hips. It took her only seconds of fumbling to free him from the confines of his pajamas. More than 3 decades of practice meant it didn't require thought to know exactly what would be the most pleasurable position for them both. She hovered only a few seconds before sinking onto his lap.

They groaned in unison and she gripped the headboard tightly, using the leverage to steady her thrusts. Robert's eyes, though they fluttered shut briefly, opened again and blue met blue.

It was unnerving to him, sometimes, the way she would maintain such steady eye contact with him, as though looking through him straight to his soul. He learned to detect the subtle shifts in the iris, the widening of the pupil that meant she was nearing release, the softening of her gaze when he touched her intimately. She wanted to see him, to be with him, so fully. His English restraint made the whole experience initially distressing but the final result was always intensely erotic; he was able to watch his pleasure reflected in her gaze.

His hands settled on her hips for balance, letting her set the pace, fully enjoying the rare pleasure of his wife being in charge. It wasn't often, for even after all the time together she still felt uncomfortable being too forceful in their relations, but when it happened it was most amazing for them both.

"Touch me," She said, and though it was a command, it was also a plea. Robert untangled his hands from the silk at her hips and pressed his palms between her shoulder blades, moving her forward until their chests pressed together. The friction caused them both to moan in pleasure and Cora's mouth dropped to his neck, nibbling gently.

This time when she pulled back to look in his eyes, she fumbled for his hand.

"Touch me," She whispered again, guiding his hand to where she needed it most. When his fingers slipped over where they joined she cried out, whimpered, and began to move faster. "Yes."

"Yes." He echoed.

"Yes," She volleyed, although her tone was breathy and desperate. "Robert."

"I have you, my darling." He moved his hand faster between them and when she cried out in his arms, he leaned to lap at her throat. "I have you."

"Yes," She whispered again, dropping her forehead to his shoulder. "Yes you do."

* * *

It was plainly obvious that Her Ladyship did not sleep in her own bed the night before. O'Brien was unruffled and set to preparing her Ladyship's clothing for the morning while she waited for her to return from her husband's room.

The bedroom maid, however, was far more scandalized by the realization that the Countess of Grantham apparently had other sleeping arrangements.

Silly girl; it never crossed her mind that the Countess would be with her Earl.

* * *

_Some of you may recognize bits and pieces of this from an anon-spam earlier this month_. :D _This is not the end. Oh no. We have miles to go before we sleep. _


	3. Chapter 3

The day dawned bright and clear and Shrimpie invited Robert to take a walking tour of the Castle. Robert's love of the estate's vast lands overrode his mood and he kissed Cora's cheek before following the older man out the wide front door.

The ladies retired to the morning room where they gathered in companionable silence and sipped at tea. Cora brought needlework with her, but it was abandoned on the settee beside her.

"Oh, Cora." Susan said, as though she was just remembering something. But the expression on her face led Cora to believe she'd simply been waiting for the perfect moment. "I wanted to tell you. The Marquis of Lothian will be at dinner tonight. I know you haven't seen him in years and years."

Violet's head snapped up and her sharp gaze narrowed on her niece. "Oh, isn't _that_ a coincidence."

"Whatever do you mean, Aunt Violet?" Rose asked, and her wide-eyed naivete was at least marginally better pulled off than that of her mother.

"She means it can hardly be a coincidence that he's attending tonight, considering what happened the last time he and Robert were in the same room together." Cora finished succinctly. She wasn't going to be drawn into some strange cat-and-mouse game with her relatives. Certainly not after all these years. If the last twelve months had taught Cora anything, it was that time was far too limited to pettiness.

"Oh, a scandal?" Rose clapped her hands in something akin to delight.

"Anything to take the focus off your misdeeds, I'm sure." Violet's ability to cut people to the quick often pained Cora. But at this particular moment she was thankful for her mother-in-law's lack of censorship. Rose looked momentarily abashed and Susan's face contorted into an ugly expression before melting back into bland indifference.

"No scandal." Cora answered primly (and truthfully). "We courted before I married Robert."

"Quite seriously." Susan interjected but fell silence when Cora's gaze cut to her.

"My parents were fonder of his title." Cora admitted. "But I was in love with Robert."

Hopelessly and recklessly. Quite honestly, her parents were deep in negotiations with Ian Nesbet, the Marquis of Lothian, when Cora announced that she was going to marry the Viscount Downton. Cora disliked Ian intensely; he was far too familiar and made her uncomfortable with his single-minded attentions. She had suspicions that he only desired one thing from her, and when he had it, he would move on to the next conquest. Robert was a gentleman, whose aristocratic indifference and kindly aloofness was a welcome change from the Marquis' heavy-handed attentions.

The night she told Ian she was breaking off the engagement to marry into the Crawley family, he had joyfully and maliciously informed her of the state of Downton. He recounted every debt and financial failing, and viciously informed Cora of her true worth to them. When her eyes welled with tears, his expression was victorious. Her heart broken, she nevertheless followed through with her marriage to Robert, although a little more worldly than before.

It was only after their fifth anniversary did Cora reveal the depth of Ian's treachery to her husband and what followed was her first true experience with his explosive temper. It had taken her a week to settle him enough that he did not challenge the man to a duel and by the next season at Duneagle, the whole affair had become nothing more than a bad memory.

Yet that summer the Marquis of Lothian had showed up at Duneagle for the hunt. And all hell broke lose.

* * *

_Duneagle Scotland, August 1894_

By the time Cora made it downstairs for the Gilles ball, she was more than a little bit late. Robert met her at the bottom of the wide staircase, a very suspicious grin on his face. A face she loved so desperately it frightened her.

Her skin still tingled and was flushed a lovely pink from their activities in her bathing room, and she pinked even more under his darkly sensual gaze. Nearly 6 years and a daughter later, and he could still set her heart into overdrive at the sight of him.

His touch still undid her. Every time.

"You look lovely, my dear." He murmured as she took her arm.

"I look scandalous." She whispered back. It would be a surprise if the family didn't know exactly what they'd been up to. "Everyone will know."

"Let them." Robert said, and his tone had changed somewhat. The Marquis of Lothian crossed the dance floor with a young lady on his arm. "Let him."

"Oh, Robert. That was so long ago. Why do you let it bother you?" She may have presented a very grown-up front, but she was secretly thrilled with his possessiveness of her. It made her feel cherished, something that had been lacking in their relationship for quite some time.

"Promise me you won't dance with him." He asked, and when he turned to her she was surprised to see concern in his eyes. He laid a palm over her abdomen gently, protecting their little secret. "I won't have him upsetting you."

"You precious man." She leaned forward and, unmindful of the crowded ballroom, pressed her lips to his. She was no longer the young girl that the Marquis had once preyed on. She would never tell her husband, but years of living with his mother had made her tougher, less immune to the unnecessarily rude words of those around her. Whatever pain Ian Nesbet had once caused, it was long since healed through time, love and motherhood. Her once tender heart had expanded and strengthened. "I'll be just fine. It's nearly time for the first waltz. Dance with my, my love?"

Which he did, gladly.

* * *

The ball continued through until nearly dawn, the revelers talking and drinking and dancing. It was Robert's favorite time of year, the trek to Duneagle, for there was hunting and dancing and, for a time, no responsibility. He was still new to his Earldom, and the grief of losing his father still fresh. The visit to Scotland reminded him of how it was to be young and carefree, on the arm of an enchanting lady.

Thinking on her, Robert craned his neck to search the large ballroom for his wife. Last he'd seen her, she had been sitting with his mother. Their heads were together conspiratorially and Robert couldn't decide if the sight thrilled him or frightened him. Looking again, he spotted Violet in the same spot but the seat beside her was empty. He made his way to her and rested his hand on the back of her chair.

"Is all well, Mama?" Robert asked, pleased to see some pink in the cheeks of his mother. Her stoicism well-practiced, it was still plainly obvious that she was mourning her husband. It did Robert's heart well to see her enjoying herself - or at least enjoying herself as much as she allowed it.

"I seem to have misplaced Cora," Violet responded, and her eyes scanned the crowd. There was a hint of concern in her voice.

"She can't have wandered far." Robert answered amiably, not the least worried. Violet hesitated and something about the shift of her shoulders set Robert immediately on edge.

"No. But Ian..." The words were no sooner out of Violet's mouth that Robert pushed away from her. She was pleased to see him so anxious to find, and rescue, his wife. But she was also very concerned about the scandal he would no doubt bring. Pragmatically, she shrugged her shoulders. Whatever would be, would be. It was something her husband told her many a times. Only now, after she lost him, did he realize what he meant.

* * *

When Robert finally caught sight of Cora, she was dancing with Ian. The space between them was smaller than good taste dictated, and Robert could tell by the look in Cora's eyes that she was not the least bit amused. Ian's hand on her waist slipped lower to the swell of her hip and Cora's brows drew together. Robert was still half the distance of the ballroom away and he began pushing through couples, not caring that they cursed him as he hurried past.

He had almost reached the couple when Cora threw Ian's arms off her and stepped away from him. He made a grab at her arm, his large, meaty fingers wrapping around Cora's dainty bicep. Robert saw red and flung himself towards the couple just as Cora reared back. Robert bowled into Ian just as Cora let her fist fly, and in the melee, Robert felt it collide with his right eye.

There was chaos in the ballroom as Cora tumbled into the arms of the footmen who'd rushed forward. Robert and Ian were scrapping in the middle of the floor, grunts and shouts eclipsing the dying music as the revellers stopped to stand in a semi-circle around the brawling men.

"STOP THIS AT ONCE." It was Violet's booming voice and the crack of her cane on the marble floor that had the entire scene screeching to a halt.

The men froze instantly, arms tangled together in a grotesque parody of an embrace. Robert's eye was already swelling and Violet noted with some satisfaction that the Marquis' nose was bleeding. With sharp movements and much agitation the men separated, and Robert was grumbling under his breath, making wild and violent threats against his opponent. For his part, Ian looked only vaguely ruffled, despite his dripping nose and split lip. Finally coming back to himself, Robert looked around wildly for Cora, relieved to find her sitting in a chair nearby, Cousin Susan patting her hand.

"My dear," Robert dropped to his knees at her side, taking her free hand in both of his. "Are you quite alright?"

"Oh, Robert." Cora looked at his eye and tears began to cascade down her cheeks. "I've struck you!"

"Don't cry, my love." But it was no use. What began as silent tracks of tears began to whirl into sobs. A quick look around proved his suspicions - he and Cora were the main event of the gathered crowd. With a brief nod to Susan, he swooped Cora into his arms and rushed out of the ballroom. It was a testament to Cora's state of mind that she didn't protest, but continued to cry quietly in his arms.

Once in the relative safety of Cora's bedroom, he placed her gently down on the bed and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He blotted at Cora's eyes and encouraged her to blow her nose. It took her a few minutes but finally she settled down long enough to speak.

"That vile man." She said. "I meant to hit _him_!"

Robert touched a finger to his cheek and winced. "I'm only sorry I didn't let you. You pack quite the punch, Cora."

Wet laughter bubbled and Robert reached forward to tug at the hand she cradled against her abdomen. Already a bruise was forming across her knuckles. He brought the battered flesh to his lips and kissed her tenderly.

"If he lays hands on you again," He spoke soberly, his voice an octave lower than usual. "I will kill him."

This produced a genuine grin and Cora leaned forward to rest her forehead against Robert's. "If he insults you again," She whispered, kissing his nose. "I will help you."

* * *

_Yeah, I don't know what happened. We were having sweet times in Scotland then all of a sudden people were brawling and Cora was cutting lose to knock some guy's block off and I'm like "SELF, NO MORE CRACK BEFORE BED." I promise there's a point (of sorts) beyond this ridiculousness and I think we're going to finish off at 6 chapters. I'm about to click into the 7K in words but I'm tying up the last of the lose ends. They're gonna exchange gifts and stuff and we're going to pretend it's all christmassy and shit. _


	4. Chapter 4

By the time husband and wife were duly doctored and seen to by their hosts, it was very late (or quite early) indeed. Exhaustion had begun to overtake Cora, who sat propped against the pillows but dozed fitfully. A knock at her door brought her back awake and Violet popped her head inside the room.

"All is well?" She asked, and Cora nodded. Robert was still undressing in his room, but would be along shortly. She flinched slightly when Violet moved inside the room and closed the door behind her. She made her way to the bed and leaned a hip on the mattress. Her fingers sought out Cora's, and she inspected the younger woman's bruised knuckles. Cora waited for the inevitable telling off, but Violet merely stared at her knuckles.

At long last she turned to leave but paused at the door. "Next time, my dear, you'll do well to hit the correct man."

"Mama," Violet stopped at the door. Cora didn't call her that very often, as the word felt as foreign to her daughter-in-law's lips as it felt to Violet's ears. When she turned, Cora had both hands protectively wrapped around her middle, her expression serious.

No words were needed and Violet's eyes slipped shut as she nodded. It was an evening to celebrate, indeed.

The door closed behind her, and Cora dropped her head back on the pillows to stare at the ceiling, unable to swallow her grin.

That was how Robert found her minutes later when he joined her in the bed.

"Pleased with your brawling, are you?" He asked, drawing her slight form towards him and curling around her beneath the blankets.

"I'm sorry I hit you, Robert." She turned in his arms until they were face to face. She pressed her palm to his cheek and let her thumb wipe gently across the purpling already appearing on his cheek.

His lips split into a wide smile and he used his knee to wedge between her thighs, pulling her flush against him. "You can make it up to me."

Her hand tracked tentatively over his hip to the swell of his bottom. It still made her blush to touch him intimately, even as his grunt of pleasure made her feel powerful. She didn't rush as she slid her palms beneath the waistband of his pajama pants and this time their groan was mutual when flesh met flesh.

And yet Robert made no move to initiate more, hoping that she would take the lead. She continued her slow ministrations, trailing her fingers over heated flesh, letting his sounds of pleasure guide her. Her palms tracked over his thighs, pushing his pajama bottoms down, but then she faltered. He was always so understanding of her, so happy to guide her, and he always seemed satisfied with their nights (and days, and mornings...). Yet she still had lingering doubts, reservations, that if she was too forward, too demanding, he would be repulsed.

Her lips tracked along his throat, followed lightly by her tongue and she levered herself until they were eye to eye. The adoration reflected there gave her confidence and she dropped feathery kisses all over his face. She pressed forward into him and pushed him onto his back before settling herself on his thighs. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders and she looked down at him through curls and lashes. His smile was soft but melted into a grimace of pleasure when she stroked over him with her palm. He arched into her touch, hips moving of their own volition, and delight infused her.

"Is this what you meant by making it up to you?" She kept a steady rhythm but varied pressure, inordinately pleased to see a fine sheen of sweat bloom on his skin. His fingers gripped the bed clothes tightly, released, and gripped again. Reluctantly she withdrew her hands. Leaning back she propped herself with hon his knees and simply gazed down at him while he caught his breath. "Now you make it up to me."

He shifted their positions quickly and their shared laughter filled the room. When they were courting, when Robert was making loveless decisions about his future wife, he'd never realized it could be like this. Never knew what he might have been giving up. And yet she'd found him, and loved him, and together they were building a life together. A life filled with mutual respect, admiration, love and...a fair amount of physical pleasure.

He allowed his lips and hands to roam across the dips and valleys of her skin, eliciting soft moans and gasps. When his tongue touched her core, she nearly levitated beneath him, and her cry was hoarse. It occurred to him to hush her, to swallow her cries with his own mouth, but the sound was so rewarding. It was as if by expressing her pleasure, she amplified his.

Their bodies slid together in a learned synchrony, and she gripped his waist with her thighs. Her cries were louder, in tandem with his, each building the closer they inched to release.

Let them hear, he thought. Let them all hear.

* * *

_Duneagle. December 24, 1921_

Just as it had more than 25 years earlier, the party broke up on the brawl between the Earl of Grantham and the Marquis of Lothian. The only difference was this time, neither Robert nor Cora were injured in the fracas, and Ian was to be escorted off the property.

Susan looked shell-shocked as the last of the guests were escorted out.

"That wasn't the outcome you were expecting, Susan?" Violet asked, coming up behind the younger woman and looking rather pleased with her son. She did so love to watch the dramatics first hand. It quite reminded her of the time Matthew had brawled with that awful Newspaper man. And hadn't that been around Christmas as well?

When Susan finally gathered her wits enough to reply, it was weak. "You would think Robert would have sense enough to restrain himself."

"Just because Shrimpie wouldn't defend your honor doesn't mean all men would fail thus."

Susan cut her glance over to where Robert and Cora stood together, far too close, with Robert's arm around her waist and her palm on his chest.

"I shouldn't have expected better of your family." Susan turned on her heel and made to leave.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." Violet said to her retreating back. Susan's shoulders tightened as the words hit home and she hurried away from them.

"How is your hand, darling?" Cora asked her husband. Mary, Matthew, and Edith were gathered around all with expressions of varying shock and amusement.

"Oh, fine, fine." Robert was distracted by Cora in his arms, wanting nothing more than to take her back to her room and assure himself that Ian left no lingering marks on her skin. He didn't want to ruminate too long on his desire to mark her as his. There was no doubt in his mind about her faithfulness, but there was some deeply male desire to make sure she knew just how much he adored her. And how very much they belonged to each other.

He glanced around and then above, and noticed they were once more beneath the little sprig that had started the entire affair. She followed his gaze and her lips quirked into a smile.

"You're my hero, Robert." Cora stepped close to him and wound her arms around his neck, her mouth upturned and inviting.

"Aren't you tired, my dear?" Robert asked, his lips moving against her temple.

"Not in the least." She murmured back, and her palm splayed over his back briefly. "So why don't you take me to bed?"

He did not need to be invited twice. Desire for her overrode his sense of decorum and with a boyish grin and uncharacteristic exuberance, Robert swept Cora into his arms.

"Good night, family." He called over his shoulder, and Cora buried her face against his shoulder, laughter bubbling. Over her husband's back, the faces of their family were twisted in shock and mild disgust.

"Merry Christmas!" Cora called merrily, her arms around Robert's neck. It was time for them to exchange gifts.

Among other things.


	5. Chapter 5

Their bedroom flickered red and gold courtesy of the flames dancing in the fireplace. Their gifts to one another were still wrapped at the foot of the bed, forgotten in their ardor. Now Cora lay propped against the pillows, her husband's back resting against her chest. He ran his hands over her calves and her arms draped across his chest, fingers twisting in the sprinkling of silver hair there.

"Merry Christmas, darling." She murmured into his neck, lips brushing his flesh. He shivered and she squeezed him with arms and thighs. "It turned out, didn't it?"

"Other than the image of Ian Nesbet groping you under the mistletoe, I'd say it did."

She tweaked one of his nipples playfully and caught his ear between her teeth. "Be nice."

He tickled the back of her knees and chuckled. "I'd rather not."

Cora dropped her chin to his shoulder and stared into the fire, hypnotized by flames and his touch and the intoxicating press of his body against hers. She was content to simply stay there, holding him in her arms, unable to tell where his skin began and hers ended. For so many years it seemed life conspired against them, attempting to keep them apart. It was a testament to their devotion to one another that they were there, together in that room, hearts still racing from their love.

"Would you like to open your gift, my dearest?" Robert asked lazily, continuing his mindless exploration of the skin beneath his wandering hands.

Still cheeky, still amused by all that had happened to lead them to this moment, Cora's grin was playful. "I thought you'd already given me a very satisfactory gift."

"That, my love, is the gift that keeps on giving." With regret he pulled himself out of her embrace, his warm skin cooling at the lack of contact. He scooted to the end of the bed, the sheet tangled around his middle falling away and giving his wife a very interesting view as he leaned forward to retrieve a wrapped package. As he crawled back to sit beside her against the headboard, she couldn't help herself. As though her hands had a will of their own, they trekked over his exposed flesh. He swatted at her hands ineffectually and landed face down beside her with a groan. A flat-handed smack on his bottom had him howling in irritation. With mock annoyance he sat up and gathered the sheet over him. "As you can't seem to keep your hands to yourself."

Once he was settled he presented her with her gift. He watched her face as she ripped the paper on the flat box. Pulling back the tissue inside she gasped, tugging the gold chain free.

"Oh Robert." She breathed, cradling the pendant in her palm. It was a heart, encrusted with diamonds. At the center was a deep red ruby that glittered in the firelight. "It's beautiful."

Robert allowed his gaze to trek over her face, the one so familiar to him. Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared at the bauble and a muscle in her cheek twitched, which meant she was barely holding back tears. She bit at her bottom lip gently and fumbled at the clasp.

"Help me?" She asked and turned her back on him. She gathered her hair in her hands and he clasped the necklace. It was heavy between her breasts.

"We've had a rough year. A rough handful," Robert admitted, and there was emotion in his tone. "I think I may have forgotten to remind you how much you mean to me. How much a part of me you are. More than thirty years ago, I gave you my heart. You've still got it, Cora. You still do."

She lost the battle with her tears and turned into his embrace, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck. He drew her against him, until she was practically cradled in his lap, and murmured endearments against her hair.

"For every moment, of every day." He continued at long last, when he'd recovered enough of his control to speak. "You've had it."

He was rubbing her back soothingly, as though he held a child, and she sighed against his neck. He was always so strong in her eyes, even when he had been weak. It was something he'd forgotten - to aspire to be the man she believed he was. Somewhere along the way, he'd lost his compass. But it wasn't really lost, he just forgot that it existed in his wife. She would always point him in the right direction, and would accompany him on any journey.

"This makes my gift seem..." She trailed off, a little embarrassed now. He was choosing heartfelt, emotional gifts and hers was...

"Not in the least. If it comes from you, I know it comes from love."

Something flickered across her features, and Robert felt a niggle of discomfort.

"We should wait until morning." Cora tried to put him off, hoping she would be able to come up with something more suitable. Although a hundred miles from anywhere in Scotland meant the possibility was slim.

"Cora?" It was the slight nervousness in his tone that had Cora flushing. She felt all wrong-footed within seconds.

"No, no. It's just...it's not a very good present."

"Won't you allow me to be the judge of that?"

Her face scrunched in an expression of comic discomfort before slowly nodding. Robert bent to retrieve the gift and by the time he settled once more beside his wife, her cheeks were flaming.

"You're starting to frighten me." Robert said, turning the package over in his hands. It felt like a book, although he couldn't think of one that would make his dear wife turn six shades of crimson.

"It was a stupid...it was silly."

Looking between her and the carefully wrapped gift, he could wait no longer. He tore at the paper recklessly, revealing a very plain cover. The title was inscribed in gold and for a few seconds Robert was even more confused. He flipped the book open to a random page, and studied the illustration.

His eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing and he snapped the cover closed. Cora was beside him, her palms over her cheeks, not making eye contact.

He flipped open again, to another page, and this time he needed to turn the book clockwise to make sense of the drawing. His eyes widened to large ovals of shock.

When the bed began to shiver, Cora drew her hands down from where they covered her eyes. Robert was shaking in silent laughter beside her, tears of mirth rolling down his cheeks.

It was enough to squelch the last of embarrassment and instead send Cora's irritation to spiking.

"I didn't think it was that funny." She huffed, snatching the book from him and thumbing through it. "It is actually quite educational."

She landed on a page and shifted the book several different angles before shuffling some more. At last she turned and showed the illustration to Robert. "This one says it will increase the pleasure for the woman, as well as the staying power of the man."

Robert sputtered, but she noticed he leaned forward to inspect the drawing a bit closer. "That's not even possible. And you've never complained before!"

"Don't be offended," Cora offered a small conciliatory smile. "I told you it was silly."

"I don't know how insulting my bedroom performance is silly."

Cora was careful to avert her gaze as she rolled her eyes. Her husband's ego could be terribly fragile at times and she truly hadn't intended for the gift to address any failings on his part.

Instead of speaking she grabbed for his hand and pulled his arm over her shoulder, curling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. She pulled the abandoned book from his lap and rested her palm on it. She let the silence deepen for a while longer before choosing her words carefully.

"You aren't alone in your concerns about us. You've been afraid you haven't expressed your feelings properly." She shifted and swallowed, comforted by the arm around her shoulders, despite the fact that it was still somewhat stiff. "There are parts of our marriage that I feel I've neglected as well. I know we're getting older, and that part should be past but...I don't want it to be. I want to be close to you."

Her cheeks were warm but Robert's grip relaxed and tugged her ever closer. "I thought we could...consult...the book. Together. I thought we could..."

She was fumbling for words. It hadn't happened at all as she'd planned, with the gift. She had expected pleasant, scandalized surprised as they spent the rest of the evening exploring the book.

Examining her hand sprawled over the cover, the lines and spots that hadn't been there a handful of years ago, she finally blurted. "I thought it might help us rediscover that part."

Robert buried his face in her hair and she could feel him breathing against her ear, and the sensation sent warm ripples across her flesh.

He was forced to wonder how they had arrived at this point, both so unsure of one another. Could it simply be the cosmic shift that accompanied the war and all that came after? Or was there something to the claim of familiarity breeding contempt? He looked down at his wife, pressed to his side as though she wished to merge their skin, and he couldn't ever imagine having contempt for her.

"I think we just lost our way." He murmured, sliding the book from beneath her palm. "Perhaps this will guide us back?"

He could feel her smile against his chest.

They opened the book and sifted through the pages, stopping every so often to read aloud. Sometimes they would giggle nervously. Occasionally they would sit in stupefied silence as they tried to figure out a particular position. The atmosphere in the room, which had been a maelstrom of conflicting feelings, melted into companionable warmth. Their hands wandered and when Robert read aloud from a section on biting, Cora couldn't stifle the yelp as he nibbled down the side of her neck.

The candles around the room were burned low by the time the book slide away, forgotten, as they crawled beneath the sheets to set about their own rediscovery of each other. Cora's fingertips traced familiar paths over back and shoulders while his lips roamed the slender expanse of her abdomen. He coaxed her into his lap, her back tucked against his chest, and he twined their fingers together. They slid together easily and Cora gasped. He paused while she adjusted before nodding just a little. Her head lolled loosely on her shoulders when his hips began a lazy rhythm.

Cora gasped when she finally opened her eyes and saw herself reflected in the oval mirror above the dressing table. She sought Robert's gaze in their reflection and he was watching her intently, his eyes dark with desire.

They breathed in tandem, stoking desire into a slow burn, then a raging wildfire, still staring into one another's eyes.

She turned her head and he caught the corner of her mouth with his lips, his tongue. The ruby heart glistened against the alabaster of Cora's skin, and Robert thought it fitting that his wife should wear his heart around her neck. He swallowed her moans and gave up his own while held her trembling form even closer.

He guided her hand down to her center, pressed her fingers, encouraging her to take up a rhythm of her own. She resisted momentarily but as pleasure fired over her skin she gave in. She felt wanton and alive and when she looked back into the mirror she saw that Robert's expression was even hungrier. His large hands closed gently over her breasts, warm palms scraping deliciously over her nipples. She she needed him with her, so much, had never felt this ragged desperation before in her life.

She wanted so much and needed that much more. With something like a growl she was forward onto her hands and knees. Robert's expression was one of surprise but he managed to follow her easily and used his hands to guide her hips into a fast rhythm. She looked up through a fall of her dark hair to their reflections again. Robert was looking down where they joined, his gaze full of wonder. His chest perhaps older, was sweat dampened. The muscles in his neck corded when he dropped his head back.

"Robert," Cora said, but it was a rough sound and she had catch her breath to speak again. "Robert."

When he finally met her gaze in the mirror she reached her hand down again to where they joined. He moved faster behind her and white edged her vision as she slid her fingers over herself.

Pleasure raced through her veins and she must have cried out. Her arm could no longer support her weight and she went limp, dimly aware of Robert's holler behind her. He collapsed across her back, pressing her into the mattress. His lips brushed her shoulder blades and he was panting.

When he'd finally stabilized his breathing he rolled onto his side, taking his wife with him. She was boneless and warm in his embrace.

"Best christmas gift. In the history of christmas gifts." He murmured.

Cora's chuckle was breathy and she rolled in his grip until her chin was tucked against her chest. Her smile was bright and unencumbered, as it was so many years ago.

Over the years the trips to Scotland had only been enjoyable because of the happiness they brought Robert. Cora had little use for the vast Castle, Susan's bad humor, the endless hunts and all the rest. She would much rather be in her own home.

However, she had to admit to herself, Christmas in Scotland had its advantages.

* * *

_HAH. Finished before the alpaca-lypse. Happy End Of The World, my lovelies! Up next: WELCOME TO THE HIGHLANDS, BITCHES*. Tumblr, you're a terrible influence and I love you._

_(*probably not the actual title)_


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